Of Fathers and Sons
by N'kala
Summary: Jeff knew that starting his own business would require some sacrifices to be made. He just wasn't aware what those sacrifices entailed.


**Title:** Of Fathers and Sons

**Author:** N'kala  
**Disclaimer:** The Thunderbirds in any incarnation do not belong to me but to Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.

**Summary:** Jeff knew that starting his own business would require some sacrifices to be made. He just wasn't aware what those sacrifices entailed.

**Author's Notes:** I was cleaning up my closet and found a lovely little notebook with snippets of stories inside. I'm still working on Fires of Adversity, but decided to share this little piece that I found. This story is a little angsty but with an overall fairly light tone. No serious drama here. As always, I tend to make up my own canon. That includes ages.

Of Fathers and Sons

By: N'kala

Jeff Tracy entered his hues and heaved a deep sigh. Although only one in the afternoon, he was exhausted. He had been working long hours at his office in Tracy Enterprises for the last few months as they developed some very promising designs. He had become so wrapped up in his work that he had barely seen his sons. Other than the occasional greetings over breakfast, Jeff hadn't even _seen_ his youngest boys. Realizing that he had gone so long without spending any time with them, he finally had come home.

"Boys?" he called, wandering through the halls. It was a beautiful summer day, and the house was suspiciously quiet. Jeff wondered if he would even find his boys inside when he heard his eldest son's voice respond.

"In the kitchen, Dad!"

Jeff went into the kitchen to find Scott at the counter, slathering peanut butter on a few slices of bread. More ingredients to make sandwiches littered the counter, and a backpack sat at the end with drinks inside.

"You're home early," Scott observed, pausing in his task as he approached his father and gave him a welcoming hug. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to see you boys," Jeff replied. "What are you doing? Where are your brothers?"

"Alan convinced John and Gordon to take him to the park this morning," Scott answered. He returned to the counter, continuing to add to the small pile of sandwiches he had already made. "I told them I'd bring them some lunch after I picked Virgil up from his piano lesson."

"The park?" Jeff echoed. "That's quite a walk."

"They rode their bikes," Scott told him, sliding the sandwiches into their backpack and digging out bags of cookies and chips.

"And Alan?" Jeff prompted. "Don't tell me that he rode on the handlebars."

"Of course not," Scott replied. "He rode _his_ bike."

Jeff stared at his son's back, confused. "But . . . Alan can't ride a bike."

Scott glanced briefly at his father. "He can now. He's been able to for the last three months."

"He _has_?" Jeff exclaimed. "But how? Why? I told him I would teach him."

Scott carefully avoided Jeff's eyes. "Alan _did_ ask you, Dad. You kept putting it off to the next weekend. Since you were so busy, I went ahead and taught him."

The sixteen-year-old was careful to omit how the decision had been made. After six weeks of broken promises, the five-year-old had sat in the garage with his bike in tears. Scott had found him there while on his way to run an errand and had spent the afternoon with Alan instead.

"Oh." Jeff's voice brought Scott back to the present. "Wait . . . did you say Virgil was at his piano lesson? It's Wednesday."

Scott nodded, stuffing the backpack with the rest of the picnic lunch and closing it. "Yeah, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from 12:30-1:30."

Jeff shook his head. "I thought it was Mondays, _Tuesdays_, and Fridays, from four till five."

"It _used_ to be, but Virgil's instructor changed the times to fit her summer schedule," Scott replied, hefting the backpack and finally meeting his father's gaze. "When school starts, he'll go back to the old schedule."

"I see," Jeff stated. "Why didn't Virgil say anything? Has he been getting there okay?"

"Virgil _did_ tell you, Dad," Scott replied. He kept his expression impassive. "Back in May. Gave you a paper to explain the change. And he's been getting there just fine. If I can't take him, his friend's mom does it."

"Oh." A pause again. "Well, good. So what are you doing now?"

"Virgil's lesson is about done," Scott answered. "I'm picking him up, and we're heading over to the park for lunch with the others. We were going to hang out for a bit."

Jeff nodded. "Would you mind some company?"

Scott's eyebrows shot up. "Uh, no, but don't you have to work or something?"

It was slowly occurring to Jeff that he had been doing a little too much work. He resolved to try and rectify his mistake.

Jeff let Scott drive into town, the two chatting about nothing important. Jeff found the topic of their conversation shifting back to his work, no matter how much he tried to keep the focus on his eldest son.

Virgil bounded out of his teacher's house as Scott pulled into the driveway, a broad smile on his face. He froze just feet away from Scott's car when he caught sight of his father.

"Dad?" Virgil said. He looked to Scott for clarity.

"Hi, son," Jeff greeted warmly. "Hope you don't mind if your old man joins you boys on your picnic."

"Oh, cool." Virgil hopped into the back of Scott's convertible and handed his brother a CD. "Here you go, Scott. Hope you like it."

Scott snorted as he pulled back into the street. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't've asked for it."

"What is it?" Jeff asked.

"A copy of my recital," Virgil answered. "My teacher recorded me playing it last month. Scott wanted a copy."

"Last month?" Jeff asked. "Where was I? I would have liked to go."

Scott could feel his brother grow uncomfortable and hurried to answer for him. "You had some big conference in New York."

Guilt flared in Jeff's gut. He tried to push it down. "I'm sorry I missed it. If Scott will allow me, I would very much like to hear it."

Scott watched Virgil in his rear view mirror as Jeff engaged his middle child in small talk about the recital. His father showing up unexpectedly in the middle of a work day had left Scott uncertain as to Jeff's motivations. His father was a busy man and worked hard to provide for his family. Scott didn't, _couldn't_, fault him for that, but his actions had forced Scott to assume a more fatherly role for his younger brothers. Too many times he had seen the disappointment on the boys' faces when they realized that Scott was once again standing in for Jeff for recitals, games, and more. Seeing his father now, joining them for a picnic lunch, left Scott feeling a combination of hope and worry. Hope that his father would be around more for his sons, and worry that he was going to disappoint them all over again.

The convertible carefully threaded through the cars in the parking lot before finding its own spot. Grabbing the backpack of food, Scott climbed out of his car and had taken all of two steps when Gordon leaped out from nowhere, wrapping his arms around Scott's waist in an attempt to tackle the older boy.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Is that all you got?"

The ten-year-old boy gave him a cheeky grin. "Are you asking for more?"

"Don't even think about it," Scott warned him as John ran up.

"Hey, guys, it's about-whoa!" John cried, spying Jeff coming around Scott's car to join them. "Dad?"

"Are we at the office?" Gordon asked, making a production of looking at their surroundings.

"What did the squirts do this time?" John wanted to know.

"Nothing, as far as I know," Jeff replied. "Can't a dad have a picnic with his sons?"

"Cool!" Gordon said, flinging himself at his father.

"Where's Alan?" Scott asked John.

John gave Scott a 'what do you think' look. Scott nodded and tossed the backpack at John.

"I'll get him," he said. "Go find us a spot."

Jeff went with his younger sons, but his eyes strayed to Scott as the teen walked purposefully to the monkey bars and stopped, folding his arms. Following Scott's gaze, Jeff spied his five-year-old son, his baby, sitting on top of the bars.

His sons exchanged some words, and Alan suddenly leaped into the air at Scott. Jeff felt his heart seize in his chest, but Scott effortlessly plucked his baby brother out of the air and swing him onto his back, giving Alan a piggyback ride to their picnic spot.

Alan's blue eyes widened when he spied Jeff. "Daddy?"

Jeff grinned broadly and reached for Alan. Alan went willingly into his father's arms, hugging him tightly. "Are you going to eat with us?"

"You bet." Jeff sat on the grass beside Gordon and settled Alan on his lap. "I'm hungry. What've we got?"

He reached into the bag as Virgil was distributing drinks. Pulling out a sandwich, he unwrapped it and looked. "How does peanut butter and jelly sound to you?" he asked Alan.

His sons all gave a start, but it was Scott who spoke first. "No, Dad!"

Jeff gave a slight jerk, startled. He frowned in confusion when John took the sandwich from him and passed it to Virgil. "What?"

"Allie's _allergic_ to peanut butter," Gordon informed him seriously.

"_What_?" Jeff asked n disbelief.

"It's just a minor allergy," Scott told Jeff. "He'll break out into a rash and get sick for a couple days." He took another sandwich that John handed him. "Here, Sprout. Ham and cheese with mustard, no crusts."

Alan beamed and took the sandwich. "Thanks, Scott!"

"And Gordon, peanut butter with strawberry jelly and banana slices," Scott continued, giving Gordon a playful look of disgust.

Jeff watched the interaction thoughtfully. He had believed Gordon favoured grape jelly, not strawberry. And John was eating an orange when Jeff remembered clearly that he hated fruit. He ate in silence, feeling his guilt grow as he realized how little he knew his sons.

Jeff also noted how Scott seemed to anticipate his brothers' needs. His younger sons were all following Scott's example, and deferring to him instead of Jeff when discussing plans and gaining permission. The responsibilities of fatherhood that Jeff had thought he had well in hand had been shifted to Scott in his absence. He was glad that Scott had risen to the occasion, and was immensely proud of him, but he was also disgusted with himself. How could he have let the situation get this far? He had to fix this.

His sons finished their lunch quickly and, after clearing their mess, hurried back onto the playground. Jeff lingered back with Scott, hoping to speak with him.

"Scott, I know I haven't been around very much lately," he admitted as they sank onto a nearby bench. "I got so wrapped up in my work that I've neglected you boys, and seeing you all together right now shows me that I've missed so much."

Scott shrugged, his eyes on his brothers. "We understand. You're busy."

Jeff placed a hand on Scott's shoulder and squeezed, gaining his son's eyes. "That's no excuse. I shouldn't be too busy for my sons. You've had to take my place, and I'm sorry you were put in that position. Somehow, I'm going to make this up to you."

Scott nodded.

Jeff squeezed his shoulder again and turned to watch his children chase each other around the playground. "Alan's allergic to peanut butter, huh?"

Scott nodded again. "We found that out when Alan ate some near the end of school. The school nurse couldn't get a hold of you, so Alan told her to call me."

"That will never happen again," Jeff promised. He eyes fell on his second-youngest. "And _strawberry_ jelly for Gordon? With _bananas_?"

Scott let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, Virgil dared him a few weeks ago. He won't eat anything else for lunch."

Alan caught John's hand and pulled him to the swings. John acted as though he was being forced into pushing his baby brother on the swingset against his will, but Jeff could plainly see that John was enjoying himself.

"Since when does John eat oranges?" Jeff asked.

"Since Gordon snuck them into his jello," Scott answered. "Don't ask me how. By the time John realized what he was eating, he liked it."

"Does he eat any other fruit?" Jeff wanted to know.

"He still hates pineapple, grapes, and watermelon, but he's really starting to go for kiwi," Scott replied.

Jeff shook his head. "What else have I missed?"

Scott thought for a moment. "Well . . . Gordon's been teaching Alan to read."

"Really?" Jeff asked, surprised and impressed.

Scott nodded. "He's doing well, too. Gordon's been . . . uncharacteristically patient. He's been doing it all year. No one else knew until March. We were watching a movie, and some subtitles appeared. I asked one of the others to read them to me, and we were all shocked when Alan was the one to do it."

Jeff laughed, amazed. He felt wistful, regretting he had missed it. "Anything else?"

"John's tutoring middle school students in science and math this summer," Scott replied. "He's also taking some junior-level classes at the high school this year, even though he's only a freshman. Virgil's been asked to paint a mural at his school. Gordon's participated in a few swimming races at the community pool. He blew them out of the water, so to speak. I think a couple instructors were offering to train him, even though he's so young. They think he could be Olympic material."

"Wow." Jeff settled back, soaking in all the new information. He looked shrewdly at Scott. "And you?"

Scott shrugged. "I've been looking at colleges. I know I have a couple years, but I wanted to get an early start."

Jeff was about to question Scott further when he saw his eldest tense up. He glanced around. "What is it, son?"

Scott rose to his feet. "Alan."

Jeff looked. Alan had retreated to the row of bike racks on the far side of the playground. John, Gordon, and Virgil were in the field, chasing one another. None of them seemed to have realized that their youngest brother had wandered away.

A group of boys were approaching Alan. They ranged from ten to even Scott's age, and from their expressions Jeff knew they were up to no good. Before Jeff could rise all the way to his feet, Scott was already off like a shot, running for his brother.

"Dad!"

Jeff turned to see Gordon and Virgil running towards him. Looking back to the field, he spotted John hurrying to help Scott intercept Alan and the group of boys. "Boys, go to the car. I'll be there in a minute."

Not waiting to hear their response, Jeff broke into a run to join Scott and John.

The crowd of boys were slowing surrounding Alan, who was staring up at them with an achingly familiar look of stubborn determination. Jeff realized that Alan had positioned himself firmly beside John's bicycle; from his stance, it appeared to Jeff that the little boy was trying to protect it.

Before any of the boys could move, Scott shoved through the closing crowd, scooping Alan up into his arms and facing the oldest of the group with a fierce glare on his face. John was beside him seconds later, body tensed for action.

". . . baby needs protecting," the oldest boy was saying as Jeff reached the crowd.

"The only one who's going to need protection is you boys if you come near any of my sons again," Jeff growled, his protective instincts flaring at the sight of his children being surrounded.

Several of the boys immediately backed away upon realizing there was an adult in their midst. The ringleader turned to face Jeff, a mutinous look on his face.

"We weren't doing nothing," he said sullenly. "We were just minding our own business here."

Jeff took another step closer to the teen, his eyes hard. "Then go mind it somewhere else. Leave these kids alone."

The teen looked as if he was about to argue the point. Seeing that Jeff wasn't about to budge from his point, the teen snorted and joined the rest of his gang, the group moving away from the park altogether.

Jeff quickly hurried to his sons' sides, one hand on John's shoulder and the other on Alan's back. "Everyone okay?"

"We're fine, Dad," John replied.

"Who were those guys?" Jeff asked, gently prying Alan out of Scott's arms so he could hug his youngest.

"Trouble," Scott replied grimly. "They've been seen around here and there. They like to steal bikes from a lot of the kids around here."

"They were gonna take Johnny's bike!" Alan insisted from Jeff's arms. "They can't do that!"

John gently ruffled his little brother's hair. "Thanks for looking out of my bike, Sprout, but bikes can be replaced. Little brothers can't. Don't go near those guys again, okay?"

Alan pouted. "But Johnny -."

"Listen to your brother, Sprout," Jeff told him firmly. "You about gave us heart attacks."

Alan leaned back into his father, wrapping his little arms around Jeff's neck. "Sorry, Daddy."

Virgil and Gordon joined them seconds later. Jeff decided not to admonish them for leaving Scott's car without permission and looked at the faces of all his sons.

"Tell you what," he announced. "Why don't we all pack it in and head back to the house so John, Gordon, and Alan can put your bikes up, then let's all go out for some ice cream. What do you say?"

"Yeah!" Gordon cried, reaching up to pat Alan on the back. "Ice cream, Allie! Come on! Race you back home!"

Alan wriggled in Jeff's arms, forcing Jeff to set the boy down. "Last one home is a rotten egg!"

"Boys, be careful!" Jeff cautioned as Gordon and Alan ran to unlock their bikes.

"I'll make sure they take it easy, Dad," John assured him, moving to join his youngest brothers.

Jeff nodded his thanks, then turned to Scott and Virgil. "Well?" he said. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to be a rotten egg."

Scott and Virgil looked at each other. Sharing the same thought, they broke into wide grins and took off across the park towards Scott's car.

"Better catch up, Dad," John warned Jeff. "I wouldn't put it past Scott to leave you here."

"He wouldn't do that," Jeff replied, brushing off John's comment. He paused, glancing at the retreating back of his eldest son. "Still . . ."

His children's laughter filled his ears as he hurried to catch up to Scott and Virgil.

The End


End file.
